


none left to protest

by ravenreyamidala



Series: happiness abides [1]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Crack Treated Seriously, M/M, Oblivious Kent, Secondhand Embarrassment Bait, idiots to lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-31 11:48:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19425367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravenreyamidala/pseuds/ravenreyamidala
Summary: Jack is the best boyfriend/fiance/husband ever. Now, if only Kent realized that.alternatively:Five times Jack told Kent he loved him, plus one time Kent told Jack. A comedy of errors.





	none left to protest

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ohmygodfoxtrot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmygodfoxtrot/gifts).



> The best way to describe this fic is a comedy of errors. The more realistic way is to say "queer culture". The worst way to describe it is crack. 
> 
> Because...it's crack. 
> 
> Parse posi posse, thank you for making me crack up.
> 
> Title from Much Ado About Nothing, and yeah, the first line of this is a Lady Antebellum reference.

It’s a quarter after one, Kent Parson is sixteen years and four months old, and Jack Zimmermann has bought him a pint of his favorite ice-cream flavor in the world. A flavor that can only be found at the creepy gas station on the other side of town. Kent might be in love. 

Jack cracks open his own pint of the same flavor and takes out a heaping spoonful. His lack of restraint is unusual for Jack, who’s usually so careful to follow diet plans, but Kent knows how much Jack likes this ice-cream. 

Kent totally hasn’t jerked off to the expression on Jack’s face after Jack tried the ice-cream for the first time, and he has not spent hours wondering if that’s what Jack’s O-face looks like. And then Jack’s making the face again, and Kent has to swallow very, very, very slowly around the spoon still in his mouth, and then Jack looks at him. 

Kent knows that Jack must have leaned forward to kiss him first, because there’s no way Kent would have, not in this universe, but he can’t actually remember who leaned in first. 

Jack’s mouth tastes like ice-cream.

* * *

Jack and Kent have been friends for five weeks and fuckbuddies for two of them when Jack invites Kent home for the holidays. Kent plays it cool, but when he’s on the phone with his mother, asking for permission, he starts gushing about meeting THE Bad Bob Zimmermann. His mom patiently sits through his fanboying, but he has to cut himself off when he realizes how much work she has to do based on the screaming in the background. 

He has to keep himself from bouncing the entire trip to Jack’s house. At one point, Jack pulls him into a public bathroom stall and gets on his knees to suck Kent’s dick, but Kent has never been one for falling asleep after an orgasm-- there’s something about the hormone rush that has him bursting with energy, usually. 

Jack watches Kent bounce his leg, a small smile on his face. They’re five minutes from the house when Jack finally puts a quelling hand on Kent’s knee. 

“They’re going to love you,” Jack says, so quietly Kent has to strain to hear him over the sound of the car’s engine. 

“Well-- I guess if you say so,” Kent says doubtfully. 

“I do,” Jack says, smile growing. 

Kent manages to calm down before getting out of the car. Bad Bob Zimmermann and Alicia Owens meet them just inside the front door, and Kent makes sure his jaw doesn’t drop. In all his excited about meeting Bad Bob, he forgot about how Alicia Owens, the star of his sister’s favorite movie (and his if he’s being honest). 

“Maman, Papa, this is my…friend, Kent,” Jack says, and Kent doesn’t read into the pause at all. 

“So this is the boy my son can’t stop talking about,” Alicia greets, before drawing Kent into a hug. 

“I’ve seen you play, you’re fast,” Bob says. “Soft hands.” 

Jack doesn’t snicker, but Kent can hear the chirps running through his head. Thankfully, Kent manages to avoid making a fool out of himself for as long as it takes Jack to excuse them so they can put their stuff away. 

On the way to Jack’s room (and it’s a long way, the house is fucking huge), Kent marvels at the situation he’s found himself in. He’s on track to be drafted into the NHL, and he’s spending the holidays with his best friend, and he just met Bad Bob. Life’s pretty good. 

Jack stops in front of a door identical to all the other doors they’ve passed, and motions for Kent to go in first. 

“Whoa,” Kent says, because the room is huge. It is also definitely not a guest room, if the trophies and stacks of hockey pucks and pictures of the Zimmermanns are anything to go by. “Wait, this is your room, right?” 

“Yeah, it has the best mattress in the house,” Jack explains before grabbing their bags and sticking them in the closet. 

“I guess. It wouldn’t affect my hockey playing that much if I had to sleep on a less than optimal mattress though,” Kent says as he seats back on the bed, leaning back on downward facing palms. 

“Well, you’re less likely to get lost this way, too,” Jack murmurs as he staddles Kent. “It took me so long to find you as it is, I don’t want to do it again.” 

Kent laughs, because he doesn’t really know how to respond to that, and Jack smiles before pressing their mouths together. After that, well. There’s not a lot of talking. 

* * *

Kent’s in line to board his flight when Jack appears next to him, out of nowhere, sweating and panting. It’s a good look on him. Kent is momentarily speechless. But then. 

“What the fuck-- how are you here, aren’t you supposed to be on a bus home?” Kent sputters, and Jack holds up a finger in the universal gesture of  _ give me a second _ . And then Jack’s tugging him out of line, and Kent is too surprised to do anything but just go with it. 

“Look, we just won the Memorial Cup, and we have thirty-four days of summer to spend together, I want to make the most of it,” Jack says when he finally catches his breath, before taking out plane tickets from his pocket and handing them to Kent. 

“Are these-- Zimms, these are tickets to Hawaii,” Kent says, eyes growing wide. 

“Yeah,” Jack says, smiling sheepishly. “So. Do you want to?” 

“Jack, the plane leaves in an hour,” Kent points out. “I just have a carry-on that has more hockey gear than clothes!” 

“Well, if I play my cards right, you won’t need that many clothes anyway,” Jack leers playfully. Kent shoves him in response. 

“Jack, this is too-- did you buy these tickets just to get through airport security?” Kent wonders. 

“Oh, if it were just to get through security, I would have bought cheaper tickets,” Jack explains casually. “No, I wanted to get through airport security and treat my boyfriend to a brilliant vacation before we’re spending most of the year across the country from each other.”

“Boyfriend?” Kent asks, struck dumb. 

“Well, yeah-- I mean, we’re dating, that’s what you call people,” Jack says, unsure, his eyebrows drawing together. “Or-- I guess, maybe we’re not I just thought.” 

“No, no,” Kent cuts in hastily. “No, we are, that’s just the first time I’ve heard you say that.” 

“Huh, really?” Jack ponders. “I guess I’ve been too careful about hiding our relationship. My parents know, though.”

“What, they do?” Kent asks. 

“Yeah, I told them before asking if you could come over for the holidays,” Jack says blithely. “So, Hawaii, yes or no? It’s just that I think they’re almost done boarding your flight.” 

Kent’s still stuck on the part where Alicia Owens and Bad Bob Zimmermann knew they were dating before Kent knew they were dating, before something else dawns on them. 

“Jack, do you mean the first time I visited your house?” Kent asks suspiciously. 

“Yeah,” Jack answers. “Uh, so the flight person at the desk is glaring at us, are you getting on or--.” 

“Let’s go to Hawaii,” Kent cuts in, and that’s that. 

* * *

Jack’s booked them for couples’ massages. It’s really romantic considering that Kent only figured out that they were dating fewer than 24 hours ago, but Kent’s not protesting. 

They go back to their hotel room, and Kent’s so relaxed that Jack can just slip into him, and they make slow, leisurely love on the freshly made bed. 

After, Jack reaches over Kent into the bedside table and pulls out a ring box. Kent looks at it curiously, and Jack looks him, smiling, as he pulls out a sparkling ring. He takes Kent’s left hand and kisses his ring finger before slipping the ring on Kent’s finger. 

“What’s this for?” Kent wonders, teasing a little, turning his hand to admire the ring. 

“You know,” Jack says. “It fits perfectly, too. You and my mother have the same ring size.” 

Kent nods understandingly. He used to buy his mom chocolate when he did something stupid, and Jack took his boyfriend on vacation to Hawaii. Of course he’s going to go big with a ring to apologize to Alicia. 

“I’m sure she’ll love it,” Kent says. “It’s a lovely ring. You have good taste.” 

“I do,” Jack says, looking at Kent softly. 

“I do, too,” Kent says cheekily, before leaning forward and kissing Jack. 

* * *

Kent’s wearing the ring on a chain, a year later, when he gets so checked so hard he sees stars. Jack had given Kent the ring, probably for safekeeping, even though Kent still thinks Jack would have been more responsible with it. And then when Kent had tried to take the ring off to give to Alicia, she had stopped him and said that it looked much better on him. 

So that’s how Kent becomes the sole owner of a ridiculously expensive ring. That’s what he’s thinking about when he’s being run through the concussion protocol. He’s told he’s out for at least three games and makes his way out of the room to be greeted by Jack’s worried face. 

“Jack, what are you doing here?” Kent asks, surprised. He tries to think about their schedule of visits, but the attempt has pain piercing through his head, so he stops. He can’t wait for the pain meds to kick in. 

“I thought I would surprise you,” Jack says, trying to smile. It looks more like a grimace. 

“Guess I ended up surprising you,” Kent jokes. 

Jack doesn’t say anything, just wraps an arm around Kent, who gratefully leans into the embrace. By the time they’ve made it to Jack’s sensible rental car, the pain meds have kicked in with a vengeance. 

“Zimms, you’re here! Let’s paint the town red,” Kent tempts, slowly rubbing Jack’s thigh. 

“Kent, you’re supposed to be resting, you have a concussion,” Jack points out. 

“But you’re here,” Kent pouts. “You’re never here. I don’t want to spend our time together sleeping. That’s boring.” 

Jack sighs just as Kent catches sight of an Elvis impersonator through the car window. 

“Oooh, oooh, do you think we can get him to serenade us?” Kent wonders. “I’ve been in Vegas so long, and I’ve never been serenaded by a fake Elvis. Let’s go get fake Elvis to sing for us, Jack! Pleeeeeeeeeeeeassse?” 

He pairs his wide, puppy-dog eyes with a particularly sensual sweep of his hand over Jack’s thigh, and Jack sighs the sigh that means Kent is either getting to junk food or getting eaten out. Either way, Kent is winning. 

A series of events later, and they’re walking down the wedding chapel aisle as the Elvis impersonator serenades them with “Hound Dog”, and Kent’s signing the most realistic looking fake wedding certificate he’s ever seen, not that he has a whole lot of experience with fake marriage licenses. 

“Zimms, you’re smiling so much, your cheeks must be aching,” Kent chirps, but he’s smiling just as much. 

“Never thought we’d be getting married in a Vegas chapel,” Jack says, and his grin just gets wider. 

“Yeah, it’s kind of tacky, even for me,” Kent says. He starts thinking about all the places they could get married, before abruptly remembering that they aren’t even engaged yet, despite Jack carefully taking Kent’s ring off the chain and slipping it onto Kent’s hand during the fake ceremony. 

Before they leave, Jack grabs the certificate. Kent wonders at it, but sometimes Jack is sentimental. It has been a really good night. 

* * *

Kent has been so careful with the planning up until this point. Jack didn’t even blink an eye when he mentioned the restaurant, despite it being much fancier than they usually went to on date nights, and Kent’s carefully arranged the ring reveal at the right time with the waitstaff, who he pre-tipped very generously. 

Jack shows up with a gift wrapped in Kent’s favorite blue and topped with a bow that might be bigger than Kent’s head. 

“What’s that for?” Kent asks playfully, reaching a hand out, but Jack smacks it away before Kent can make contact. 

“It’s for after dinner, okay?” Jack says, and then the waitress, Amber, is there to take their order. 

Dinner is good. Kent makes a mental note to come back sometime when he isn’t proposing so he can find out how good it actually tastes when he’s not so anxious it dulls his taste buds. 

And then Amber is bringing out bowls of ice-cream. Specifically, the ice-cream Kent had introduced Jack to in the Q. 

“Oh, I haven’t had this in forever!” Jack exclaims, face lighting up as he catches sight of the bowls’ contents. “Wow, this is brilliant, you really knocked it out of the park, Kenny.” 

“Yeah, I hope so,” Kent says, wiping his sweaty palms on his pants before kneeling in front of Jack, taking the box out of his pocket. On cue, the orchestra Kent hired starts playing one of Jack’s favorite Beethoven songs. 

Jack takes the ice-cream spoon out of his mouth, looking amused. 

“Kent, what are you doing?” he asks. 

“Isn’t it obvious?” Kent snaps, before taking a breath. “Sorry, no, that’s not what I meant.” 

“Kent, are you proposing?” Jack asks, chuckling. 

Kent flushes so hard he gets lightheaded. 

“Yeah, so? Is it really that unbelievable that I would want to marry you?” Kent protests. “Or-- is that not where we’re headed?”

Jack stops chuckling abruptly, looking confused. 

“What are you talking about?” Jack asks, and Kent’s heart breaks. 

He gets up and stuffs the ring box back in his pocket. 

“Never mind, this was silly, obviously,” Kent mutters, before motioning the nearest waitress for the check. 

“This isn’t some prank?” Jack asks. 

“Why the fuck would I propose as a prank?” Kent exclaims, before crossing his arms tightly. 

“Bud, we’ve been married for a year,” Jack explains patiently. “You know, Vegas. It’s our anniversary!” 

“What,” Kent says blankly. 

“The Elvis impersonator?” Jack prompts. 

“What, that wasn’t real,” Kent protests. “And you never proposed!” 

“I never proposed? You’re wearing the ring right now!” Jack says. 

“Wait, this wasn’t for your mom?” Kent asks. “Wait, you proposed in Hawaii? We were seventeen!” 

“Kent, if it had been for my mother, she would be wearing it!” Jack points out, raking his hands through his hair. “How do you not know-- have you not been doing your taxes?” 

“That’s my agent’s job!” Kent exclaims. 

“Oh my god,” Jack says, quietly horrified. “No, Kent, that’s-- that’s not your agent’s job.” 

“So you’re telling me I’ve been married for a year without knowing AND the IRS is probably sending hit men after me?” Kent says.

“That’s not how the IRS works!” Jack protests. 

“Oh my god, we’re  _ married _ ,” Kent realizes. 

“Calisse, I knew you were lying about how bad your concussion was,” Jack mutters darkly. 

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr at ravenreyamidala.


End file.
